The Prophecy
by Femina Serpens
Summary: Five years after the war, Draco has had a prophecy created about himself...and the Brightest Witch. Secrecy a must, young Malfoy finds himself frantic, afraid. Teaming up, Hermione must figure out why the fate of the Wizarding World rests in their fingers. Their pasts haunting them, they find their positions compromised when feelings other than loathing come into play. (Canon)
1. The Party

_~ The Party ~_

The words were flying out of his mouth, but all Hermione took from it was 'irrelevant, useless, boring.'

Anything that wasn't related to next weeks meeting, updated news on the latest case, sex - or even caffeine - might as well have been gibberish. Quite certainly Quidditch was already on the _blah_ list. The party's host was currently going on about his epic Double Eight Loop in the last match against Finland; the UK's star Keeper Arran Charlesby.

Talk of the town as of late, it seemed that the _Daily_ _Prophet_ had kept out how positively _boring_ the young lad was, even more so that his head was as puffed full as a jelly doughnut. Bulging biceps notwithstanding, immaculate suit to match silky smooth black hair…perhaps there was a different reason she kept on listening. Perhaps she didn't quite want to admit she was being shallow.

"So is darling Harry coming then? I did ask the boy to make an appearance," and his booming baritone let out a guffaw. "Although, I wouldn't mind if your friends didn't show up. They'd just distract _you_ from _me_."

 _The boy._

If it wasn't that line it was his roaming eyes looking from her breasts further down her scarlet lace hemline.

Suddenly her throat was full of bile. Suddenly the regret of wearing a fitted dress filled in her head. And _regret_ for appearing fab was ridiculous.

"I've no idea when Harry's coming," was the snip, "excuse me." Hips swaying back to the waiter that was circling the room with champagne flutes, she left him to make the round to someone new.

Despite her words, she could guarantee Mr. Potter's imminent arrival. Ginny in tow dressed to the nines…. Ron possibly in tow as well. A thought she had smushed deep into the recess of her skull.

Burying herself in work the past few weeks, there was no time to dwell on boys. And yet the temptation for intimacy was welling somewhere that was far far away from her heart. Still, she maintained that this was the prime of her life. Relationships shouldn't tie her down. They were an unwelcome distraction. She had no time for men, right?

"Right."  
And her beeline kept on going towards the French doors that promised warm air and fresh scents.  
" _I_ can _mingle without someone else leading it, I_ can _be charming…. Okay, well I can be fake."_

Whispering courage to herself, she pushed her way to the other side of the parlor, onto the balcony seeking out familiar faces. She found none.

And then… _two_.

How she missed that smirk right off the bat, she would never know, but there it was standing easily next to Rhys Vaisey, a Slytherin who had been handpicked from the Puddlemere United to be second string to the English national team. The Chaser to Arran's Keep.

Exhaling smoke off into the atmosphere, Draco Malfoy's piercing gaze met hers, but she wouldn't have allowed him more than a second of attention. Still, in that split second she'd seen too much. Soft white hair parted to the side, sporting a much more modern suit than she could have expected from a pureblood.

The last time she'd met the vile thing face to face he'd been in class at Hogwarts, accelerated Seventh Year programs for accessible graduation to the victims of war. They'd been two of ten, her closest friends leaving to the Auror's office or the Quidditch pitch, and she feeling like she couldn't be at peace until she'd taken every last step that was expected of a British Witch to graduate. Though they never talked, he was unreasonably quiet. Never saying a word, nose stuck very much in books as she had been. It was unnerving.

What was more unnerving? He'd beaten her in Potions. The rat!

Perhaps those two mysteries combined were what allowed the distaste to linger.

Turning in her kitten heels, eyes rolling to the back, she didn't expect her name to be what echoed into the house. And yet it was: "Hello Granger."

And what was worse is that it from _his_ mouth _._

And what was _even_ worse than that? She was armed and ready before her mind could steady the temper.

" _Granger? Really?_ Are we still thirteen?"

Simper growing wider, he ran his tongue quickly along bare teeth before raising his brows to Vaisey, shifting his weight to the other side.  
"Of course not, thought I'd just try it on for old times' sake."

With the silly tone in his voice, her hands were squishing her temples.  
"Delightful. Hello to you too, now if you'll excuse me –"

"Oh please, could I have a word?"

" _A word_?"  
NO was screaming through her veins up into her ears, but she chose a less manic approach;  
"Perhaps when I've had more to drink."

And she sauntered back into the fray of bodies, spotting the red mane and black mop of her best friends. Praising the punctuality, Ginny's eyes sparkled as she noticed Hermione, bouncing her way over to engulf her in embrace.

"Hey! Merlin, I am so sorry we're late as _fuck,"_ she cursed, chugging back her drink. "Harry was working with Ron, I was on the pitch, and then dear brother really wanted to come along. But I told him unless he wanted to watch 50 guys flirting with you all night than to wait until the next – ah! _"_

" _Why did you say_ that?"  
Pushing into her, Ginny staggered back before balancing on her stilettos, grinning like a fox.

"Because it's _true._ Arran asked me just now if you were waiting for anyone, because you seemed, how did he put it? _Irritated_. Anything I should know about?" Arching her eyebrow, Hermione went from peeved to sheepish.

"I got here an hour ago, he talked my ear off for about 40, and I think I lasted that long because I was distracted by his clavicles and jaw line."

"And that made you irritated?"  
The fit girl was arching her perfect brows, looking like she was stifling a laugh.

"God, Ginny, _I haven't had a decent shag in a month_. And Arran, though charming…ish, is an arrogant blockhead. Not my type. But I – Okay, I want to see Ron, I've been so flooded lately, it would've been nice."

"So…you were picturing Arran in his knickers, and _that's_ why you're mad?"  
Giggling now, Hermione huffed, causing it to only continue.

" _No_ , I was irritated because I feel as if he only invited me because he wanted to get Harry to show up. And then _hit_ on me as if I should feel grateful. I've never spoken to him before this, I doubt he has to Harry more than once. He had the audacity to refer to Harry as 'darling'. Seriously, _darling?_ Like they drink scotch every other weekend, I cannot _stand_ that kind of attitude." Following the trend, Hermione slugged back the rest of her glass, eyeing the room for a sign of a waiter.

"What a putz. It's almost like Slughorn all over again," Ginny grimaced slightly, nodding.

"YES, exactly like – "

"Uh, can we _help_ you?"

Hovering around the two young women was the one and the same white haired man. Draco, hands crossed over his stomach, easy expression lying on his perfectly pale lips. Undeterred by the acidic stare given by a Weasley.

"I just need to speak with _Hermione_ for a second," he lilted her name, watching her reaction as he paused. " _Please."_

Still in their stances, they exchanged a hefty glance.  
"Yeah, don't think that's going to happen _Dracooo,"_ Ginny enunciated, swishing her hair back in his general direction, pulling Hermione back to her fiancé, who was doe-eyed speaking to the almost seven foot Seeker who was conversing with him.

{}

The atmosphere was becoming sloppy.

Numerous doses of champagne, the count now lost, Hermione had his lips glued to her neck.

Ron decided to show up anyways, throwing caution to the wind. Immaculate in a suit, hand-me-downs be damned, she couldn't have stayed away is she tried. The shy smile, the gentle manner in which he spoke to everyone - the Viktor Krum fan days long gone. The smouldering gaze she'd received once he came to give her a welcoming squeeze was enough to leave her whole body tingling.

" _Ron, stop! Someone is going to see."_  
Yet she was almost purring, soft fingers tussling hair as she brushed his jaw away.

"Like I give a damn," he responded, winding his arms around her waist, nipping at her nape. " _I missed you_."

"Mm, I missed you too," she agreed, leaning in. "I thought after our date…"

" _Mmm?"_ he questioned further, pushing them back into the glass of the window pane, the curtains of which they were drifting in and out of.

"I dunno. I was under the impression you wanted to keep things casual, but now this…"

" _Hermione,_ I know you're busy," was the reply, fingers skimming closer and closer to her thighs. "I'm busy too. I assumed when you were ready, you'd come to me. I wanted to appease your hectic schedule. But since you haven't… _thought I'd make the first move."_

Hermione had no idea how this man, the most insecure boy she'd ever met, had turned into Casanova over a series of five weeks.

" _You know I'm crazy for you."_

Turning around in order to bestow him with a proper snog, the moment was interrupted by a jubilant voice.  
"Ron! Hermione!"

Oblivious as he was, the pair were still glad to see Neville strolling up to them with purpose.  
"Hey Neville," they chanted, blushing to their toes.

Nose covered in dirt from a day likely spent in tall grass, Neville waved enthusiastically. Smiling with a gleam, he had reached them before the two had time to detach from one another with respectability.  
"I haven't seen you guys in ages, how are you?"

They shot the shit for a few minutes, catching up on the mundane, the jobs they had worked towards, their mostly dull personal lives.  
"And Hannah and I were thinking about moving to Iverness, maybe somewhere in the city. She is already talking about having _kids_ , can you believe it? I can't even believe she wants to move in! Ha, can you believe it? With me?!"

"Yeah, yeah, that's amazing Neville. Hey, have you met Arran yet? Really spectacular Keeper. I need to refill my drink but maybe we could mosey on over…"

"YEAH, that'd be great! As soon as I came in, I felt like maybe I'd gotten an invitation by accident? Harry was busy so I sort of...wandered...I don't know, maybe I'm just edgy cause Hannah is away. Anyways, but a bit of something would be nice, maybe it'll calm me down and – "

"WELL, come on then! We can get some bourbon."

Motioning to the other side of the parlour, Ron glimpsed back at Hermione with wide eyes, while she wiggled her brows, sticking out her tongue. Steadying on her feet, it was then the rush of dizziness hit her head from the drink, staggering back slightly on the normally unused shoes making her feet ache.

Sipping on now warm chardonnay, she spun round and steadied. Glance up into the night, the full moon was shining into the shadows of where she stood, stars visible in the indigo skyline. The home she was in situated beautifully on the Thames, the reflections of the evening dancing in the waves.

"It's very nice, isn't it? Wish I'd seen this view before I bought my own place."  
Jumping from her skin, she whirled her anxious, pulsing body to witness once again some unwanted company. Company that kept much too close.

"Why do you keep pestering me, Draco? Do you feel so uncomfortable being metres from a non-pure Witch that you have to bother them until they go away? Just, piss me off until I want to smack that dumb grin off your mouth? It's _definitely_ working."  
 _Oh fuck,_ she was hammered, this was not going to go well.

"Well, well, Granger, didn't peg you as the type to be a heavy drinker. No, _you_ said that you'd speak with me if you had more to drink. You're nearly there to plastered, so here I am. I was completely serious, I need to talk to you."

No glass in his grasp, Hermione surveyed him up and down, seeking for any sort of virtue to this situation; she only saw poison.

"About _what?"  
_ Tensing her spine, the vice grip she held onto the wine was what she noticed him staring at, her fingers numbing to white.

"Look, if you're not going to listen, I'll go away. I just heard you RSVP'd to this party and that's the only reason I – "

" _What?"  
_ As the tall man was ready to run, Hermione yanked him back by his suit jacket, her face inches from his.  
"I'm _the only reason you came?_ Not because of the fabulous press photo ops?" she spat, pointing to Marla Lamonte from _Witch Weekly,_ who was gushing over the players. " _Why?"_

Clearing his throat, his coolness evaporating for the first time tonight, Hermione felt her focus sharpen despite better judgement.

"I need your help, Granger. _Sorry,_ Hermione," he corrected, stuffing shaky hands into his pockets, batting her away from his lapels. "I know you probably already are going to say no, given that you never responded to my letters, but I'm – _I'm scared_."  
Barely a trace of a whisper, there was too much bizarre, overwhelming information in a few sentences for her to process.

"Your _letters_? What letters? I didn't get any letters? When did you – _Draco,_ how long has this problem been going on?"

She was hooked.  
An easily interested mind was generally a fantastic asset, but now she loathed herself for giving this repeat offender a sliver of a chance to explain himself.

"I sent you a letter to schedule a meeting…I dunno, maybe just over a month ago? I have sent you three in total. Your secretary, upon myself showing up at the Ministry myself, informed me I was only to be approved to see you with a personal request. And sent me on my merry way, with no further questions."

" _Oh."  
_ This was news.  
This was something that had never happened before.  
" _I never got them…I'm…I'm – I apologize."_

"It's likely a clerical error, not your fault."  
Dismissive, she watched slate eyes follow the people darting around the flat, wary of them, unhappy.

"This 'problem' as you stated is something I found about four months ago. And to my awful judgement, it is something I ignored. Ignored it until April 25th."

" _April 25_ _th_ _…."_

"Yes. And I don't know if this is all too late, but I didn't know where you lived, I have no contacts I could bribe that would have any contact with you, and this is my last resort. I'm afraid that if I don't speak with you soon, I – "

" _Hey!_ What the hell are you doing, Malfoy? Bugging Hermione like she would even want the displeasure of speaking with you."  
It was immediately apparent Ron and Neville had done some shots from the heavily stocked bar. Slightly swaying, he stumbled over with ears red as bricks.

"It's okay, Ron, he was only asking me if I'd seen Rhys Davies. Did you want to go find Harry?"  
Motioning towards the outside, unlocking the doors, Ron nodded and began to walk with her. Not before giving Draco the most awful glare he could muster.

Hermione flashed her gaze back to indicate that this conversation was _far_ from over, that she intended fully to hear the rest as she slowly exited the doors.

Still holding her lovers hand, the faintest trace of lips rest against her ear as she felt the cool air chilled her to the bone:  
 _"You're in my prophecy, Granger. I'm going to the Department of Mysteries Monday at 10, meet me in the atrium."_

And before she could respond, swiveling her curls to follow his movement; he was gone. Out of sight, nowhere to be found, his slender body was caught in peripherals marching out the front entrance. As she watched him from the balcony, shaking hands and donning fake smiles, curiosity overwhelmed her.

 _A prophecy that included Draco Malfoy also included she...Hermione Granger._


	2. The Prophecy

~ _The_ _Prophecy ~_

Even as she awoke to tender hands roaming down all the spots she loved, the only coherent thought that managed to penetrate past her unyielded moaning was _'What happened on April 25_ _th_ _?'_

It was now June 1st and for the life of her, every single event she'd attended in the past few weeks had blanked in her headspace.

Laying naked under his plain white sheets, Ron was tightening his arms around her body, kissing her softly on the lips. She felt the sting of desire overcome her senses. Teasing him below the waist, she allowed this pleasure to sink, replacing all other thoughts with 'fuck yes'.  
For soon, perhaps she'd have to wait a while for this same happy feeling.

It wasn't until in the moonlight, as she left Ron after an entire day filled with lazy shags, cups of tea in the kitchen, and cuddles by the TV set, Hermione let some kind of reality fester in her brain. Snogging her lover goodbye, she crept out into the warm night and apparated back into her own flat, a single in Brixton. Settling under the water of a piping hot shower, now she allowed recalls from the night before into her mind.

The boy who had tormented not only her, but her best friends, and everyone else she held dear, was asking for aid.  
Begging for it, _almost_. She was his 'last resort'.

" _Wrong_."  
Shaking her head, she remembered this was a snake she was dealing with.  
And actually, he wasn't begging. Informing her that she _could be_ an essential component in something he had no control over…assuming his words were the truth, was manipulation. How could she possibly know if his vulnerability was real? How could she possibly know that this wasn't a ruse?

Draco Malfoy, the owner of his very own prophecy.  
How had he received one? If she recalled correctly, and she usually did, they'd all been destroyed when they had infiltrated the Department of Mysteries seven years prior.

She decided, toweling herself dry and falling back into her own bed, that as skeptical as she was in the power of Seers, of course more predictions would have been made since. The niggling thought was now 'If he _has_ had a foretelling, how in the hell did he find out about it?'

And most importantly; " _How did he figure that it was_ me _involved in all this?"  
_ He had almost four months to work out said prophecy, but spent an entire one in apparent fretting and desire to tell her.

The notion shook her to the core, that this might, and probably was, something so awful, something so beyond control. Shivering her to the bone, she attempted to settle in. Morning was decision time, and it was already past midnight.  
Wrenching open her drawer, she grabbed her planner as she sat up for some peace of mind. Flicking the pages to April 25th, it read:  
10:00 AM: _Meeting with Head of Werewolf Welfare Protection Agency_  
2:30 PM: _Lunch with the Andromeda + Teddy_

That was it.  
Nothing substantial, nothing odd she could recall happening during those two appointments. Fretting now without anything to go on would prove to be useless.

Relaxing into her pillows, sleep took a long while to overtake her. And as it did, only nightmares came.  
Of wispy, shadowed monsters sucking her into the depths of whatever the Department of Mysteries held. Of Draco, leading her into a dimly lit room, then grabbing her by the throat and forcing her to the ground. Of a million Death Eaters hexing her as soon as she got off the lift, Lucius Malfoy laughing at her from the darkness.

{}

"You look terrible, Hermione."

" _Thanks."_

Guzzling back her full mug, Harry slowly put back down the cream he was about to hand her. It was only then, in the break rooms for coffee at 8 am every morning that they could have time to talk for ten minutes. Generally it was nice, but today she was hoping to avoid it.

"Paperwork keeping you up?" he questioned, dumping in far too much sugar in his own cup, stirring the contents with a spoon. "I know I was awake until 2 am last night."

"No, I'm all caught up…"

In the recess of her consciousness, 'TELL HIM ABOUT THIS' was pounding at her tongue, pleading with her mouth to say something to her very best friend. Her best friend who had this same predicament affect his entire adolescence.

"You uh, you didn't let _Ron,"_ he coughed, "keep you overnight again, did you?"

" _Harry_!" she smacked him on the shoulder, choking on her drink. "I was there late, but unfortunately given I work in the morning and he works at night I had to go."

"Why so tired then?"

"Just have things on my mind…"  
She was an awful poker player, so when the concerned expression flitted onto his face from a silly grin, Hermione thought as fast as she could.

She simply couldn't tell him about this.  
Not yet.  
The timing wasn't right.

Honestly, it wasn't even a lie she was spinning:  
"About Ron and I, I mean. I enjoy every time I'm with him, yet it just seems so difficult for us to get things propelled into something ' _real'._ I'd make time for him, I just need a commitment. _"_

"Well he called me mighty chipper," Harry smiled, chuckling. "You know, I just….Merlin, I'm so awkward with love stuff, but he really likes you, you know. I know you both had to put everything off because you were at school and he was here, but…just keep it in mind. You might want to be the one to dive off the deep end first. He never shuts up about you."

Thoughtful green eyes staring into hers, she returned the smile, a slight flush covering her cheeks.  
"I will Harry, thanks. Tell Ginny I said hey, yeah? I have to go."

"I will, see you later Hermione, good luck!"  
Off with a wave, she felt the comfort of an easy conversation fall flat, sinking into a bundle of nervousness in her chest. The red hair that tickled her imagination turned white, much too white, skin fair and freckle free. The happy beaming face to a sneer she had often had desire to punch square on the nose.

{}

It was 10:15 and she hadn't arrived yet.  
Punctuality seemed like a 'Brightest Witch' trait, right?

"She's not going to fucking come."

Punctuality was _also_ a Malfoy trait, but so was impatience.  
Watching the hands tick tick tick on by on his wristwatch, he let out a heavily audible grunt, drawing out the sound so it vibrated off the ceiling and back into his ears.

Pacing around the black marble floor, Draco was alone in the atrium. Cold and dark.  
His footsteps echoing into a void, there was only a few seconds left until he would be unable to go in and witness again what he needed to review. Still, it was fruitless to go by himself.

"I'm here."

Jumping from his skin, Draco relaxed his jaw muscles to something neutral, spinning to witness Hermione Granger marching up to him, brows knitted, arms folded. In sharp navy robes, she cut quite the figure of authority.

"You're _very_ late." _  
_A harsh tone didn't manage to flicker the woman at all.

"Yes, I had a meeting. I'm here now."

"Well let's go then, they don't have all day," he commanded, pointing to the circular door in the wall, the signage above it sparkling like silver.

"I'm not going in there until you tell me why you think I should involve myself with you at all, Draco."  
Two could play commander, it seemed. The attempt to stare her down failed miserably, as the slate met the copper, and he could tell there was no room to budge.

Inhaling a deep breath, he chose not to react otherwise.  
"I want you to see it with your own eyes. Hear it and remember it."

" _Remember what?"_

"The prophecy. It will all be easier to understand afterwards."

"You can't just recite what it said?"

"No. _"  
_ Firm.

"How do I even know there _is_ a prophecy? For all I know, you're running some demented scheme with one of the Unspeakables."  
Firmer.

"Do you _honestly_ think I would ask you face to damn face for a favour if I was 'scheming'?"  
Losing his cool, Hermione could tell he was insulted. She vowed to stay icy.

" _Excuse me_ for not trusting _you._ All the information I have to go on is vague cryptic details, and you berating when I show up a bit late is not exactly helping the matter."  
She folded her arms.

"I'm _not_ berating you, I'm merely telling you what you surely must know; appointments are tight down here. I only had seconds to explain all of this, _of course_ they were cryptic!"

"I came here as fast as I can. And yes I realize you were interrupted before you could expand on this at the party, but reacting poorly when I try to help just won't do, Draco."

Rolling his eyes, he couldn't keep up the shield for more than a second. He was much too fatigued for any semblance pf courtesy or impartiality.  
" _Alright._ Well I want to show you the prophecy so you _will_ trust me. If you won't go by my word, go by the source of it. Speaking of interrupting, you didn't tell the Weasel anything, did you?"  
If Hermione didn't know him better, she could've sworn that worry flashed briefly across the pureblood's annoying face.  
"Or Potter? They needn't be concerned with this."

" _Really?_ Harry Potter, recipient of _Voldemort's_ prophecy shouldn't be informed? _Skilled Auror's_ shouldn't be concerned with potentially life threatening details? You said I was your last resort!"  
Nearly close to shouting now, her hands were flailing without control.  
It was no use to being ice when there was fire in your veins.  
"If this isn't some petty schoolyard problem, then why –"

"If you tell them Granger, they will make it worse, _trust_ me. If my hunch is right, this isn't something that can involve anyone that is known well in the public eye."

" _I'm in_ law enforcement _!"_

" _Yes,_ but _you_ are in the Prophecy, which means that you are a crucial piece in solving it. Besides, you are in charge of making and researching the laws, it's not the same – _just can you come with me!? FUCK."_

The steel wall had been crushed entirely; Draco was flushed pink, running fingers through messy tendrils of hair. It was then at his lack of volume limit that she noticed his dark circles were worse than hers, and that his skin was pallid like it had been in sixth year.  
It was then the time to take this seriously.

"There's no need to curse at me. If you feel it's this grave, let's go."

Shooing him forwards, he shook his head, throwing his arms up, yanking the handle open. Draco allowed her to enter first, eyeing her movement as she walked up to the counter. The inside of the department was gloomy, the only light being a bluish glow illuminating the grey-robed Unspeakable sitting at the desk. As he made his presence known, the woman, tortoise shell glasses poised perfectly on her face, fingers dancing a mile a minute, kept on scribbling notes with her quill.

" _Ahem."_

Draco cleared his throat. The woman, Gladys Everclear, ignored it.  
Without looking up, she spoke;  
" _Draco Malfoy, appointment at 10:00 AM on June 2_ _nd_ _with Elias Kalivas? It is 10:22 now. The Department of Mysteries has a very strict mandate about appointments."_

"I realize that. I sincerely apologize."

Humming lightly, the girl tittered.  
"I'm afraid apologizing has little in the way of fixing the situation. We don't tolerate tardiness."

" _I_ was not tardy, my _guest_ was, and I was informed that I had some time before my appointment would be cancelled. As you can see, if you'll take your eyes away from your work for a moment to acknowledge us, that I mentioned I wouldn't be alone when I wrote the letter!"

Pausing, the witch took a tissue from the corner of the table and dabbed at her frames, where Draco's spittle had flown from his huffing.  
" _There's simply nothing I can do for you. Please reschedule. Good bye."_

Turning sideways to glare at her, Hermione elbowed him away and ignored it.  
"Miss Everclear, I'm sure you're aware, but the mandate according to Section 3, clause 5 in _Department of Mysteries Regulation Volume XII_ states that if there is an acquaintance accompanying an appointment that there is a leeway of up to 20 minutes. As a Ministry employee, surely you can lend me this one favour. I can see on your schedule that we are the only people on the list until after lunch. Technically, we're only two minutes late if you play strictly by the rules. Could you _please_ allow us in? We should not take up more than 15 minutes more of your or Mr. Kalivas' time."

Draco, now behind her, shot his eyebrows up to his forehead: _She'd actually taken time to search the parameters of her half hour visit with_ him, _someone she didn't even believe._

Finally, Gladys looked up, noticing who the ex-Death Eater was standing with. Matching Draco's expression she narrowed her stare, then sighed as she summoned her patronus, an owl: " _Mr. Kalivas, your 10 o'clock are here. Mr. Malfoy….and Ms. Granger…"_

"Thank you," Hermione nodded, as the bright stream of light flew away to another room.

"He's not going to be very pleased," was the curt response.

Uncomfortable seconds later, an eagle returned: " _Send them in, three waves_ ," came the distorted warbly voice.

Swishing the stiff elm in her grasp, Gladys enchanted a sparkling entry-way behind her – three times - unlatching the barrier that held them back.  
As her insides tightened, Draco immediately leapt to go, disappearing under the magic, as if through as black veil. Following him, she held her breath as she took tender steps.

Waves of nostalgia hit her like a ton of bricks when the atmosphere settled. The Prophecy Hall had been fully restored. Rows upon rows of orbs stacked on sturdy metal shelves, almost clinical in the way they were lined, a grid.  
She found her gaze darting in between the massive aisles in search of hooded figures in masks.

Scanning the premises for Elias, Draco saw Hermione's head buzzing around, her hand clasped firmly in her pocket. Emitting loud – yet controlled - deep breaths.

Hermione felt a stiff pat on her elbow, wincing at the touch.  
"Don't worry, Granger, there's nobody lurking around. I can see Mr. Kalivas up there."

The man who looked very near a spitting image of the person who had taunted her in the very same room the last time she was here was attempting to ease her worry. The fact a Malfoy was even expressing any sort of empathy was bizarre enough, yet there he was. Staring straight ahead, and she saw he was correct.

Severe and frowning, slicked back hair, Elias was waiting for them in front of the section marked with an 'M', tapping a shoe impatiently.

"Good morning," Draco greeted the man, noticeably straighter and less frazzled than how he had acted moments before.

"Morning," Hermione repeated, attempting to place the man's face. How had she worked here for nearly 4 years and never once seen either of these people before? She knew the Deputy Head Eileen Broderick, she knew two of the facilitators by reputation and yet…  
This was so very queer.

"Well this _is_ curious _,"_ was all the mysterious Unspeakable said, looking her up and down before wandering down the passage,.

Following him, after no further explanation, Hermione spoke up:  
" _Excuse me, but what's –"_

" _Be quiet, Granger,"_ whispered Draco, as he flung his arm downwards to silence it. _  
_She had to hold herself back from decking him. _How dare he_ _shush me_!

Before she could though, Elisa spoke.  
"What is curious, Ms. Granger, is that Mr. Malfoy came to the conclusion that _you_ were involved in his prophecy, and thereby, as you must have deduced from the one made for your friend Mr. Potter and He Who Must Not Be Named, that by telling you about it, you are now bound to it."

" _What!?"  
_ Said in unison, they both shared the same shocked face, though while Draco's was encased in fright, hers was encased in fury.

"But what if it's _wrong? What if I'm wrong?"_

"I have no doubts that you are right. See for yourself."

Hermione, fingertips cold, head hot, saw the tag ' _Draco Malfoy'._ Her whole head was spinning, the room unable to focus now as carefully, Draco held the orb in his hands, facing her. Glowing bright enough to blind, an eerie voice resonated around the room;  
 _Born when leaves begin to fall from their branches, she is courageous and astute… She who can rescue everyone from the one in charge...And all he commands..From imminent destruction…Destined to succeed if only he who knows all secrets reveals all…Only if the two can work together in harmony…_

The light flew out, darkness shrouding them as they adjusted to the change. If she was spinning before, she was near delirious now. Exhaling a gasp, she steadied her grip by grabbing onto the shelf behind her.

Draco was absolutely stoic, swallowing a lump in his throat.

Elias was unmoved.  
"You were born in fall yes? You were a Gryffindor in Hogwarts, and you are one of the smartest women – also in great position - of our time. Courages _and_ astute. It is perfect in sense that Mr. Malfoy would assume it is you."

Locking eyes with the Slytherin, as he pursed his lips at Elias' generous description, Hermione's brain ceased to work.  
 _Imminent destruction  
He who knows all the secrets  
Work together in harmony_

The last one seemed the most daunting, as they couldn't go for more than five minutes without discrepancy.  
All she knew now was that Draco had been right in being afraid. That this _was_ dire, and he did need help.

"Clearly there is much for you to discuss. Have a pleasant afternoon."  
Looking back and forth between them, Elias gave an invitation to leave.  
And so they did.

Stepping out into the corridor, back into the empty room, Hermione was still struggling to think.  
"I – I…I have to go back to work…I know we – I guess we have to – We need to speak about this in depth."

Shuffling, she noticed he was unnerved at her unsteady manner.  
"I'm free all day…." He shook his head. "Fuck it, I'm free every day. You're right, there are many details we need to flesh out. I don't know when you want to talk, I don't care. I just hope now you see the magnitude of this."

"I do, Draco. And I don't know what this means for our future…I really think I should speak to –"

" _No._ Just – _please,_ don't. Trust me. You need to know everything before involving another life, alight?"  
He was the most genuine all day, leaning in close to her as if the walls could talk.

"Okay. Can you meet me tonight, at seven? I'll be here, on floor 5. At the end of the hall. No one will be around except a few people, but just act casual. It's the most secure place I can think of."

"Yes. Seven is fine. I'll see you then."  
As he stepped away, he turned back.  
"And Granger?"

Saying nothing, she looked to him.

"Thank you for coming."  
Into the lift, he leant against the barrier, staring blankly at the ceiling.

Hermione, gathering her thoughts about what the hell she was doing, had swirls of ideas on what Draco could have possibly gotten himself into.


	3. The Ugly Truth

~ _The Ugly Truth ~_

"Damn, Draco, you're looking pretty grim."  
Smirk on his mouth, Theodore Nott slid into the booth across from him, proffering a shot of the finest of firewhiskies. It was inevitable that they would meet eventually, Draco thought it necessary because his pointed anger was at an all time high. And that emotion needed some remedying.

Still, he couldn't do this right now.

He picked up his goblet, not daring to look him in the face.  
"Lot on my mind."

The _delightful_ afternoon visit with Granger was weighing on him. An anvil was pounding the back of his skull, and his demeanour wasn't up to snuff. It lasted a total of approximately 30 seconds confronting _her_ to explode in a fit of rage. It would likely be less with this idiot.

"Oh yeah? Haven't seen you in a while, my man."

"Been busy." He took a swig of beer.

"Thought you were avoiding me. And this place," Nott made a sweeping gesture to look round the bar. "You know I'm getting bothered by the big guy about you. Troubles at home?"

He took another swig.  
For all the stupidity he held, Draco was impressed by Nott's ability to ease smoothly into uncomfortable conversation with no jibber jabber of trite niceties.

Downing the booze, and the rest of his pint, he studied the empty glass before staring straight into Theodore's eyes.  
"Nott, you must be aware by now that I've spoken now face to face to the 'big guy'. I know you were plastered, but you _were_ present. When you involved me in this process way back when, I was told it would be anonymous and confidential."

"Uhuh? And hasn't it been? HEY, Marty! Alright? How's the wife?"  
Waving at an elderly man in a trouser suit, he winked at Draco, who promptly rolled his eyes.  
"What's your deal?"

" _That. Exactly_ that," he pointed his finger at Marty, perching himself on a stool. "I am no longer anonymous, _nor_ confidential. I walked in here today, at three in the afternoon mind, and was handed a drink immediately upon sitting down. The staff know me. _People_ know me. There's a rep here, and not a good one I fancy to have tacked onto my already less than desirable name."

"So? Draco, only people who frequent this place know you. Besides, you have an in. _You can't be touched._ Rake it in! Reap the rewards, I haven't paid for a drink here in like _two years."  
_ He was still smiling, wiggling his eyebrows as if he were a very popular woman in a club full of horny men.

"Money is not the issue for me. I want out."

" _Out?"  
_ It was like a foreign word.

"Out."

Anticipating a harsh tone, Draco received a laugh instead.

"You can't just get _out._ I gotta tell you man, if _he_ finds out you're bailing before you get shit done, you _will_ get a visit at home. And you won't make it out with that _handsome_ pureblood face of yours. You wouldn't want that, mm?"

Reaching over, he felt the sweaty fingers pinch his cheek, slapping it lightly after so his fragile skin turned pink.  
Exhaling, with great effort he chose to ignore the heinous violation of personal space.  
"I think you've been operating under the assumption that this little shindig is all I have, Nott. Personal security is more important than galleons. What I gotta tell _you,_ is after this batch is done, you're going to have to find someone else."

" _Someone else?"  
_ Raising a brow, Nott downed his own shot, chuckling,

"I'm serious, Nott. Find someone else. It's nothing personal, just business."  
He stood up, threw his sweater over his arm and began to walk.

"Just business? _– HEY."  
_ Grabbing a sleeve, Draco was jerked back so he was hovering over Nott, a manic expression threatening to surface from his cohort.  
" _You can't do this to me._ Just – meet me tomorrow night, I will get him here and we can… _talk_."

"I said _it's over,_ Nott."

" _Malfoy,"_ he was the firmest Draco had ever heard. _"_ You _can't_ do this to me. It's a statement, not a lamenting outcry. We'll both get fucked if you bow out, but it'll be worse for you. Honestly, I am not afraid to let you get the brunt of it if you won't even consider talking it out. I'll still be chopping, but you will be marked. You'll be done in this town. Come on, we can renegotiate the terms."  
Folding his arms, Draco knew he was right, knew he would throw him under the proverbial bus. Old Theo was much too huge in ego, and much too brash in the head to think before acting.

 _Should've been in Gryffindor,_ Draco thought as he was straightening his tie. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then began rubbing his eyelids.  
" _Alright._ Tomorrow. Just before closing, I don't need anyone around."

"Fine."

Tossing up his collar, he threw ten galleons onto the bar before rushing out into the sunset.  
" _Fucking idiots,"_ said Draco, before apparating with a crack into the sky.

{}

Her vision was beginning to blur, all the lower cases and capitals scrambling together into meaningless nothing. Normally reading the _Complete History_ _of Werewolf Legislation_ was fascinating, but today time had slowed, concentration and retention was out the window.

Her stomach was tangling more and more as the seconds ticked, realizing now it was past seven. Watching the door, flicking her gaze to her pages and back hundreds of times, finally at 7:08 there was a knock.

"C-come in."  
Damn her nerves, they had still yet to settle.

Ruffled blonde hair entered first, then a black suit, followed by Draco's grim expression, sneer permanently plastered on his face. Stepping quite slowly and deliberately to her desk, he dropped down into the visitor chair, stretching his legs out and sighing.

Staring at each other, she was stiff as a board. He was surprisingly calm to have to explain himself to an angry lion, and the first to break the silence.  
"Hello again."

"Hi."

Fiddling with her wooden house elf figurine that the Minister for Magic sent her at Christmas, Draco shifted, sighing once more.  
"Alright, Granger, this is going to continue to be quite awfully uncomfortable if we can't even talk to each other past hellos."

"I _am_ uncomfortable."

Glaring at her, his face fell from vague exasperation to exhaustion.  
"And I'm tired of your attitude." He relayed this statement almost factual. "We're stuck together Granger, you heard Elias. I am _trying my best_ to be fucking courteous, but that doesn't come easy, especially when it concerns _you._ I'm stressed as hell, so just please, lend a bit of trust in me."

Scoffing after a moment of silence, the girl shook her head; he noticed her curls quite bushy this evening, face darkened with rouge tint.  
" _Trust?_ Honestly, Draco? That bridge isn't going to be easily crossed. This morning I didn't exactly expect to be a 'component', as you lovingly put it, with a situation that involves _imminent destruction._ And be bound to it, as _Elias_ put it so lovingly. My attitude is the least of your problem."

"You're acting like you expected _me_ to be fine with having a prophecy made about myself, let alone _us_."  
It wasn't harsh, or rude – no, he conveyed this sentiment very monotone.

"Okay look," Hermione sat up straighter, moving her stacks of papers inside her cabinet. Then she leaned in. "I'm going to be frank, Draco. I really don't like you."

" _Oh what a surprise,"_ he mumbled.

"And I know you dislike me." She ignored him. "Trust between us is going to be difficult to build. If at all. Five years isn't enough to heal time…but I'm willing to compromise with you if you can with me. You want us to keep this private? _Fine._ I'll agree to that if you agree to let me have an equal say when push comes to shove and we will _both_ decide on what actions to take in dealing with…whatever this is."

Crossing her arms, waiting for a response, Draco threw his own arm into his jacket, and pulled out a considerable bottle of rum.  
"You want a drink, Granger?"

Unscrewing the lid, he downed a hefty chug before plopping it in front of her.

" _What?"_

"You're clearly freaking out about this. This is how I deal with the same feeling," he gestured to the bottle. "I'll agree to let you make decisions, but if you strong-arm _everything_ I say, which I imagine you'd have a tendency to do, I will not be a happy participant in, as you say, whatever the fuck this is."

Eyeing him, searching for something in his face, he remained the same.

"Fine."  
Yanking the drink, she slurped too big of a gulp, wiping her mouth with her arm to hide the grimace from the burn.  
It was like a sick pact they'd made, as she saw Draco nearly close to smirking at her sloppiness with his brows raised.

" _Now._ Tell me what this is about. _All of it._ "

She watched as he shrugged his shoulders loose, noticing the veins on his neck pop as he attempted to crack his neck, chin up, white skin iridescent in her terrible office lighting.

"Alright. I will do my best to be impartial. However, you must let me _finish_ before you make any comment as I know you will have many choice words for me. Deal?"

"Deal," she agreed immediately, realizing only in the present how much she had been awaiting the dirty details of this mystery.  
The direness of the situation had allowed her to think of every last worst case scenario, and now she'd finally know the real deal.

" _Fuck, ok_." Slugging back a third of his rum, his cheeks burned with pinkness, and he breathed deeply before staring straight into her interested amber eyes, faltering for a moment as he noticed the intensity. "Last November, my old pal Theodore Nott approached me at the Spiny Serpent. I hadn't seen him in about three years."

" _The Spiny Serpent?"  
_ Renowned for its seediness and less than wholesome regulars, the pub in Knockdown Alley had yet to rid itself of its status postwar.

"I said no interrupting."

Hermione huffed, but replied softly:  
" _Fine."_

"As you likely know, I am _extraordinarily_ good with potions." He could hear her grinding teeth. "Okay don't get your wand in a knot because I beat you at Hogwarts. You beat me in _everything else."_

 _"_ I was going all or nothing," she remarked lifelessly, forever bitter.

 _"Anyways,"_ Draco barked, _"_ His uncle Cantankerous Nott is the owner of the antique book store down the road, _Literary Ancients._ It's a cover. Nobody goes there because the cheapest book is 600 Galleons. It's a hideout for a ring of criminals –and _no,_ if you rat them out we will never solve this – whose leader that up until recently, I knew by reputation. _Salvatore Sangrey_."  
It rolled of his tongue with such disdain that it reminded her of the way he used to talk down to Harry. _Potter._  
"Nott sought me out because he knew that I was capable of making difficult concoctions, offered me a ridiculous amount of galleons to brew some recipes, told me he was one of the sellers for someone 'higher up'. _Apparently_ they'd scoured every newspaper and record to find I'd beaten _Hermione Granger_ at school. All I had to do was brew some shit, most of them took a few weeks. I got about ten times the retail price per ingredient. So I agreed."

" _Really?_ Really?"  
She was at a loss for words.  
Draco Malfoy, illegal potion master. It didn't sit right, she didn't think he'd have the balls for it.

"Look, Granger. I went back to Hogwarts so I could make something of myself other than 'Lucius Malfoy's Death Eater Son'. And nobody would have me after I graduated even though I _know_ I would be great at a lot of Ministry or even damn St. Mungo's jobs. I didn't want to live at home anymore, my mother coddled me constantly while my father made embarrassing attempts to be social, and let's face it; The Malfoy's are pariahs. But they wouldn't give me any money if I left. _So fuck it_. I moved out immediately to an anonymous location and pay my landlord in cash. He doesn't give a damn or ask questions."

"I don't care about your life story, Draco," she rushed him. Well, _that_ may have been a slight lie. She cared a little bit. "Exactly _what kind_ of potions are you making?"

" _Was_ I making. First, it was Felix Felicis. Liquid luck, fucking fair enough, people pay top dollar for that. What's the harm in boosting your chances a bit?"  
 _A lot,_ Hermione was thinking, but she kept her mouth shut.  
"Veritaserum, next. If Snape can make it and keep it at Hogwarts…what's really the harm in telling the truth?"

"Draco, are you _justifying yourself to me?"_

He handed her a look of loaded contempt.  
"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. I'm telling you my train of thought. Normally I wouldn't have cared about the implications of everything I was doing if the reward was far greater. But I started to get requests for weird things like invisibility potions…bloodroot poison. Those ingredients are ridiculously hard to find, and I could only make one or two doses." Draco was fidgeting, hands shaking up and down his thighs across trousers. "And then…it was _Amortentia_. That is _seriously_ illegal to sell. Even more so than poisons."

" _You're joking. Amortentia?"  
_ She was at a loss.

"Yes. I told Nott that I'd only bottle enough for just over the legal limit, because sex potions contain the same ingredients. Apparently the 'big guy', Salvatore, didn't like it but nobody else could do the job."

" _Anything else?"_

"Polyjuice too. You must know about that, I heard that your lot used it to get Potter out of his house. It takes an entire month."

 _Boy,_ did she know.

"My last straw, about four months ago; was Mendacium."

Now she was hanging onto every word: _four months. April 25_ _th_ _.  
_ Despite her disdain for his actions, _this was the good stuff._  
" _Mendacium?"_ She hesitated to admit: _"I've….I've never even heard of that."_

"It's _exceedingly_ tedious to brew," he emphasized. She though he might even be relishing in her ignorance. "It's a potion that, when drunk, waives all magic effects for _twelve hours."_

" _All_ magic effects?"

"Yes. Maybe not the killing curse, but certainly all jinxes, all potions. It takes 5 months to cook, in fact, it's sitting in my attic as we speak."

" _You're actually making it?"  
_ Her voice was shrill, Draco winced.

" _Just let me fucking finish._ Nott gave me the instructions, which begged the question; _who in the hell are you working for?_ Because that idiot is not smart enough to find a book that contains something so dangerously dark. Up til then, I didn't care to know who was in charge, and I didn't know it was Salvatore yet. But this…this was different. This had some pretty serious potential for evil."

"Did he tell you?"

" _No_ , he refused. And I left it alone, pick your battles, until I got that Prophecy."

"Four months ago," she recalled, and he nodded, taking yet another swig. "Can you _lay off_ until we finish?"

Bottle at his lips, he grimaced, slamming it back onto his lap.  
" _Fine._ I got a letter from the Ministry, prompting me about its existence. I went in, la de da, and thought to myself – _imminent destruction?_ Of course I was perplexed, but the world ending from me making a batch of potions didn't seem too plausible, especially considering I didn't make anything that causes explosions. I also didn't care to think of a girl I'd have to involve myself with. This operation I'd been running was supposed to be me alone – solitary – with _no_ interference. And I knew _nothing_ about who I was serving, so how could I 'reveal all'? Then – April 25th happened."

" _April 25th,"_ she repeated in a whisper.

He inhaled, sticking a thumb into his mouth and biting down hard, resting his elbow onto her desk.

"I'll tell you Granger, and you must not let anyone know, that I _live_ in Knockturn Alley. In an old inn, the outside looks abandoned but it's a spell. I can hide easily and the drop off point for my potions is just up the lane. No harm or foul, _or so I thought_. April 25th I was drunk as all hell, I had visited my parents after my mother begged me to, and I stayed there much too late. It was 4 am when I made my way home, and I used the fireplace in Diagon Alley because apparition wouldn't work in a stupor. As I rounded the corner, I heard voices…one was soft, _culling_ almost, and the other was _desperate."_

Hermione couldn't feel her hands, her chest was beating so hard she was seeing spots.  
"It was a woman in black, who had backed up this man into the wall _behind_ The Spiny Serpent. I thought perhaps they were going to _fuck_ right then and there," Hermione squirmed at the vulgarity, "But they weren't drunk. _No,_ the man was telling her how much he loved her. Talking a mile a minute. And she…she was telling him he could have _all of her_ if he did what she said."

" _And what did she say_?"

"She wanted him to bring certain plants from the hospital to her house, because there were potions she _really_ needed to make."

" _The hospital?"_

" _Yes_. He desperately wanted to marry her, but he'd lose his job if he was found out, and then he couldn't _provide_ for her. And that's when I realized that _all_ the ingredients she was naming for him to take were ones that _I_ needed for mendacium. Because up until then, I'd get them in a neat little package from Cantakerous's shop. This batch I'm almost finished is only good for eight doses."

"And _eight_ isn't enough?"

"Just wait, Granger. This gent was practically on his knees, but they had yet to touch. _And then_ I realized…this poor sod had been slipped Amortentia. There was _no_ other explanation for why he was so manically professing his love in the wee hours of the night in a fucking alleyway."

"Can you _please_ stop saying 'fuck'?"  
He was about to lash at her, but he saw she was registering this information, processing it with worry, rubbing her temple.

"I'm almost finished. She kept threatening to leave him if he wouldn't get her plants, but the man wouldn't budge, saying he couldn't do it. He'd just _give_ her the stuff she wanted, but that wasn't good enough for her."

"So what did she do?"  
Hanging onto his every syllable, Draco felt his heart skip a beat at the way her hair fell over her eyes, the skin on her chest peaking from her blouse as she was practically hanging over her desk."

"Um," he cleared his throat. "I had been standing out of her line of sight the whole time. Suddenly I had the overwhelming need to vomit. I was trying very hard not to, and then - I heaved. She heard me. She turned around." Despite herself, Hermione gasped. "I got a good look – _beautiful face –_ and she shuffled around. Whispering into his ear, he must've replied with something less than savoury because a split second later she growled, conked him on the head with a stunning spell and grabbed him. They apparated out of sight."

" _What?!_

"This all took place in about two minutes, Granger, I almost thought I'd imagined the whole thing _until_ I read the headline of the _Prophet_ a few days later _– Head Healer, Redford Robertson,_ _missing_ _since Saturday._ "

"OH MY GOD."  
Hermione was breathless, wide-eyed, feeling her body start to shake uncontrollable.  
It had major been news for weeks: a public figure disappearing form thin air. Nobody had come forward to say they'd seen him, nobody knew where he was, not a single clue.

" _Yes."_

"So why didn't you _say anything!?"  
_ He could be _dead,_ and Draco could've prevented it!  
She was boiling to the surface now, her veins resurging with feeling, hands with the overwhelming urge to smack him.

" _I wanted to!_ Granger, I was going to – but then I _saw her,_ the woman, at the Spiny fucking Serpent not two days after the headline. And who was she with? _Nott._ Nott who was piss drunk. _And!_ Fucking Salvatore Sangrey."

" _What?"_

"Yes. Nott introduced me to Salvatore, who acted all slick. I suppose Nott mentioned that I wanted to know who I was working for, and he thought it right to introduce himself. He likely sensed that _I_ was hesitant about continuing, so he upped my payment. Rest assured that I was 'safe'. _Ridiculous."  
_ Shaking his head, he disregarded the 'rules' and sucked down the rum.

"But who was the woman?"

"Ramona Woodsen. She is Salvatore's 'girlfriend', so he said, but I'm certain she is his second-hand man, or should I say _woman._ Who needs that much mendacium if not for a hatched scheme? They are planning something big. Eight doses is quite a lot, but if you need a team to be unstoppable? You need plenty. Recently they'd asked for a double batch of love potion. I've been killing myself over what they could _possibly_ do with a fuckton of Amortentia and the ability to be magic-less. Plus, I've still yet to receive any more ingredients to make the bloody invincible stuff, so that's going to take five more months lest they decide to forgo it."

"So it was April 25th when you decided to get serious?"

"I had already been speculating about my prophecy for some time, but it wasn't until I realized how dangerous my 'higher ups'," he air quoted, "That I went in again to hear it. I _had_ to find the other person involved. Back of my mind, I'm pretty sure I _knew it was you,_ dreaded it. I wanted to confirm it by looking up your birthday. And I did. Hard as fuck to track you down you know. I'm surprised I got past Weasley to even talk to you without rousing suspicion. But I did…And here we are."

He spread out his arms, _ta da!,_ folding them afterwards, waiting for her response. It was a bomb of information to drop, with essentially no inkling of a lead to go on.

Head down, pensive, it took slow minutes for Hermione to finally speak:  
"You're a fucking idiot, Malfoy."

Throwing up his hands, he had no words.

"They are obviously getting Redford to grow the plants they need at a hideout. And controlling him with the love potion!"

" _I figured that one out, genius!"  
_ He was getting just as huffy as she was, both of them fiercely red.  
"It's the _why_ I don't know, and it's not like you do either!"

" _Because you only just told me about everything!"_

 _"Well, FUCK_ Granger! I'm trying to do the right thing, alright? I don't need you talking down to me."

His voice was icy, and she wanted nothing more than to flip her lid, and tell him doing the correct thing would've been to _not_ dabble with criminals.  
" _Okay, okay,_ let's both calm down. So – you're making the potions, and they don't suspect anything?"

"Well –"  
For the first time this visit he looked uneasy.

" _Spill it, Draco!"_

" _Merlin,_ calm yourself! I went to the bar after seeing you this morning, and Nott found me. I informed him after this batch I want out, for my safety, and now he's basically told me that I will have to speak to Sangrey with him tomorrow evening because I 'can't do that'."

" _Why would you tell him you want out!?_ "  
 _Rookie mistakes,_ she furiously thought, about to shake him for being so bloody incompetent.

" _Granger,_ it makes sense. People have come to know me around there and the deal was to be anonymous. I am no longer anonymous, it isn't a swift change in my character!"

"This is stupid. We have to tell someone. We have to tell someone _now."_

" _NO!"  
_ He yelled so loudly, she flinched. Sitting up pin straight, he was incensed.  
"Didn't you hear what they did to that man? How in the hell Ramona slip him the drink in the first place? ow did they find the instructions for mendacium? We _don't_ know what they're capable of. I don't want to be involved, which is why we should operate from the outside. If I get tacked onto anything I'm dead. _We're dead_."

" _Draco,_ are you a Slytherin or what?" He was taken aback by the disgust laced in her tone. "That is the dumbest idea i've ever heard. You're supposed to be cunning! If they see you back off, and suddenly their stint goes up in flames, they'll suspect _you_! You _have_ to keep going, you have to play double agent!"

" _But I don't want to!"  
_ Backing off, she recoiled from his voice. Then recalled what he had told her at Arran's party: _I'm scared._

She was scared too.  
"Draco," she almost cooed, softly enough that his mouth twisted into a frown, "We're in this together. But if you leave them, then we won't have any inklings of information, and the only thing we could do is spy. And what if we got caught? If you were still involved, you could make an excuse. When you go tomorrow night, you can convince them you've been mulling it all over!"

Malfoy could _see_ the idea forming in her mind, her eyes lighting up like fire.  
"Tell Salvatore you want a bigger involvement, hence more information, because you don't like being kept in the dark if you aren't going to stay as a confidential partner. Be demanding, and be _rude,_ I know you can do _that. Don't back down,_ make him respect you. If you really are one of the only ideal people who can do this job, let them know it."

He had to admit that that was a good strategy.  
He also had to admit he was terrified of being strung along again like he was a mere 6 years ago, a pawn in a bigger plot.

"Alright, alright." he had to concede. He had to man up. "I'll try, ok? I can't promise that'll happen, i've only met him once. I'm meeting them around 2 am, for privacy. I will….I guess I'll come see you the day after at 12 and tell you about it?"

"Yes."

" _Okay._ Well I want to get some bloody sleep, I haven't been able to for a solid month."

With no goodbye, he shot up, snatched his alcohol, and ran out the door.  
Alone now with only her thoughts, Hermione felt the gravity of the thing gripping her insides. This information she _promised_ to lock away in a box with no key.

How long could she last without spilling her guts to Harry or Ron?


	4. The Spiny Serpent

Author's Note: I apologize for quite a hiatus. I hope you enjoy the new chapter xx

* * *

~ _The Spiny Serpent~_

It was seven pm, and all Draco wanted to do was sink just the slightest bit lower into the tub. _Just_ the slightest bit so his face became submerged. _Just_ the slightest bit so he couldn't breathe. _Just_ the slightest bit so maybe he'd drown luxuriously in something calming and hot. Instead of probably getting his hands hexed off tonight in the most vulgar way when he had to make some progress on this stupid fucking plan he never wanted any part of.

Sighing, he slugged back from the merlot bottle he'd placed precariously on the bath edge. As he heard the tinkle of the glass hitting porcelain, putting it down, he examined the wrinkles forming on his hands. He'd been lying in there all afternoon. Falling to sleep until around four in the morning, waking up at one wasn't something he'd like to admit was routine.

After his conversation with his new – _ugh_ – partner, all he could mull over was the manner in which she had told him "we're in this together'. _Nobody_ had ever been 'in this together' with him before. Not in his whole life. He'd kept it that way and he liked it: Malfoys liked to scheme their schemes alone. And yet, sixth year he'd nearly gone mad.  
Maybe he wouldn't _have to_ this time…

" _Maybe I already fucking am."  
_ 'This time'? Why in the _fuck_ did there even have to _be_ a 'this time'?  
Pensive now about his pending insanity, he danced his fingers through the water, feeling the resistance as he swayed them back and forth around the bubbles. Then he made a giant splash, growling in frustration.  
"What the _hell_ am I going to do?"

Draco operated best on the down low, not in the spotlight. Despite his best efforts, he never could charm the Horace Slughorn's of the world the way someone like Blaise Zabini did. His mouth was too sharp, he was too pompous, he thought too much of himself and his pride.  
He was an ass.

And the worst part was he liked being one. He couldn't help it. Something in his bloodline and his mind made it so fun. Yet tonight self-preservation was out the window. A single word to the wrong person…he could get himself in a sea of trouble.  
Knowing that, he wanted _out_. _Immediately._  
Why was it so hard to get what he wanted?

Though deep in the recesses of his mind he knew she was right, he wasn't so sure Granger understood what being involved in this meant. That being intelligent wasn't _quite_ enough. And though she was brave, she wasn't a natural born liar. Certainly he knew she could plan things well, but the Harry Potter crew always thrived going balls to the walls for half of their ruses, and Draco knew that wouldn't work this time.

Lazily, he stood up, donning his white robe as he stepped out of the bath, swaying his way out of the room. Stalking down the corridor, head dizzy, he withdrew his wand from the soft cloth pocket, swishing it at the stairs that led to his attic. They flew down with a resonating crack.  
It was black as night as he enchanted lumos, the bright ball of light showing him the cauldron he desperately didn't want to work on as he stepped up into the tiny room. The contents in the basin showed to be horribly right on schedule. Amber like the finest of whiskeys, the mendacium was smoking, glistening with a sparkle. Only two more weeks and it would be ready.  
Only two more weeks, and he felt a lurch in his gut.

Thrusting a ladle into the bowl, he turned it thrice clockwise, then threw it onto the wooden floor. Nox-ing his hawthorn, he stepped back down to the main floor, falling into his bed.

Six hours until he had to get up.

{}

For the life of her, Hermione couldn't quit inventing a million different scenarios of how Draco could fuck up this meeting of his.

It had plagued her mind all day at work. She'd been unable to get any resemblance of rest, and very nearly called in sick, but knew if she had there'd be a curious Ginny Weasley or Harry Potter at her front door as soon as it hit five had she done it.  
Now it was presently 10:30 and while she fixated on the idea of Draco ratting her out as an accomplice in being threatened with his life, her mobile rang: It was a Weasley.

" _Why now?"_

Sinking onto her kitchen floor, she pressed the answer button, hoping she could make it through this.

"HI…Ron," she cleared her throat – much too high pitched. "How are you?"

" _Hey Hermione,"_ and she could feel the smile and happiness in his tone. " _I'm fine. I was just calling to see if maybe you wanted to go to dinner this weekend? If you're busy, I –"_

"NO, that sounds great Ron. Dinner sounds great. Pick me up at 6?"

" _Um, yeah okay, well where did you want to –"_

"YOU PICK. Surprise me! I'm up for a surprise!"  
Her poker face was non-existent. She thanked the gods he couldn't see her expression.

" _Sure…you all right….Hermione?"_

"I'm fine, just stressed from, _ahem,_ this House Elf legislation we've been working towards."

" _I didn't know there was a new one ongoing. Did you not just pass one last month?"  
_ She'd forgotten how he actually was invested now in her interests.

"Yes….rather, it's an amendment, not a brand new legislature…we're trying to add a clause about their housing, to make it more adequate and less barbaric, you see. More square footage…their own bathroom…"  
Oh god, this was total shite, and she bet he knew it.

There was silence from the other end, a pause before he spoke.  
" _Oh, I see…."_

"Anyways, I'm very busy, I'll see you soon darling, bye! _"_

" _Uh….okay, bye…"  
_ Clicking it off, she threw the phone down onto the tiles, covering her face into her hands.  
Why did she have to lie?  
Why did she have to be involved in this?  
What would and _could_ she do about this?

Racking her brain for ideas, she knew logically that this matter was going to take more time than she could stand. She also knew that interrupting anything tonight would be suspicious as hell.

She had no control; she was going to lose it.

Yet…perhaps she could work something to Draco's favour, or hers. If she went to Knockturn Alley, if she went in and simply told them the Ministry was doing rounds, could she get any kind of feel for their character? Draco wouldn't even have to act surprised. She couldn't only go on his words.

But if Draco had told them he desired to get out of the game, and she just came storming in the next day…Would they think he spilled the beans? It would certainly be fishy.

As she stood up once more, a flashback flooded her brain, very vividly, when she, Harry and Ron had fallen off the Gringotts guard dragon. Frantically searching for a plan as they fought the cold…. what Harry had said to her.

" _Hermione, when have our plans ever actually worked? We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose!"_

And he had been right. No matter what, out of anything she had learned in the past few years, was that you can't expect anything, _even_ the unexpected.  
Draco had agreed to do what she had said.

So maybe she should just trust him.  
Still. She didn't know Theodore Nott at all, she didn't know what she was dealing with, and she didn't think Malfoy, even if he might've changed, could keep it altogether. He said it himself, he had no family ties anymore, and it was _fact_ that Lucius and Narcissa were the only ones who actually gave one ounce of crap about him.  
If hell broke loose and she was not there, could she finish the job alone? He knew much more than he let on, they'd only spoken twice and now this entire operation's future was riding on his word.

"I have to think fast."

Then something so _absurd,_ so ridiculous formed in her head it dizzied her, giving her both a sick stomach and an adrenaline rush.  
Getting up, she marched to her room, throwing open her wardrobe. Snatching a black cloak, and her best black dress, she rifled through her intimates to find matching black stockings.  
Laying them all gently across her sheets, she then examined her reflection in her mirror. Tired eyes stared back, and the days makeup flaking off her lashes as her normally bright eyes felt hollow.

She had about three hours to get this right, she thought she'd start with her appearance. Grabbing the rouge lipstick that lay way in the back of her vanity's drawer, she applied it to her lips, hoping that somehow the boldness could in turn make _her_ bold.

Tonight she felt she would need it the most.  
Not knowing was her least favourite thing in the entire world.  
And right now she had complete uncertainty if _anything_ would work.

{}

"Your scotch is getting cold, Draco, lad, the ice cubes have all but melted. Why not grab another?"

Salvatore Sangrey was handsome.

Devastatingly, unquestionably handsome.  
Perfectly curled black hair on top of a sharp jaw, with piercingly light eyes and olive skin. Impeccably dressed in a suit, he was fit, he was mesmerizing: he drew you in. If you walked into a room full of strangers, you'd likely spot him first.

Draco despised it.

Salvatore, even without all his power, could probably get anyone to do anything. Case in point; all it took was a rude signal of two fingers without making any kind of eye contact to get the busty barmaid to come over and deliver another round.

He wondered secretly if the man was a vampire.  
Because everyone who he spoke to fell all over themselves to please him.  
And if his theory was true, if that made his – or anyone else's - reactions worse or better.

"Thanks."  
There was a vague attempt at a smile.

Thanking his lucky stars, he was glad Ramona was absent. Had she been here, who knows if he could keep any inkling of composure. It seemed a good sign he wasn't going to be kidnapped or murdered by her not being present.  
Knowing what someone _might_ be able to do, and witnessing it were two completely different things. Seeing her drag a man then attack him without the use of any magic was a tactic entirely new to him. So subtle, so effective.  
He had never been fearful of the Dark Lord until he'd seen his wrath firsthand. Right now, he was forcing himself to view Salvatore as merely a charming bastard, and not the CEO of villainy.

"Is it good?"

Looking from an eager Nott to his leader, Draco took a sip, just a sip, and placed it down with an audible thunk.

"Simply wonderful."

His attempts at looking bored were starting to verge on impatience as he wanted to get away from this stupid chitter-chatter about if he was going to attend some inane party at the Sangrey ancient manor. He knew he was only invited to such an event help satiate his uneasiness about being an accomplice. And still he was going to have to attend if his request for more involvement would have any sense or merit.  
And he'd have to do it alone.

"We're going to have every vintage available from Scotland at the celebration of course. I do hope you can make it."  
And though he gave Draco a winning smile, it came off greasy and unclean.

"I'll have to think about it."  
He took another sip to mask his expression, and maybe because he needed to take the edge off too.

"You have to come, Draco, I went last year…the _women are spectacular."  
Ugh, _that was all that Nott thought about. Or spoke about.  
Money, women, and sex.  
Being that he required galleons to get women to get sex.

And Draco really _could not_ refrain from rolling his eyes at his former classmate, wondering why he thought they were still 17 and not adults that survived a travesty of a war.

"Hush now, Theodore, I hardly think Draco is the kind of man to, shall we say, _involve_ himself with creatures of the night. Given his father is married to such a _beautiful_ lady like Narcissa Black. And I think it shows in him too, wouldn't you say?"

"Uh…"

Nott was struggling to agree. The flattery was fake as his conscience. If it had been any other time, Draco would have relished in this, someone pandering to him, finding it comical even.  
But it fell flat, and when Salvatore continued to grin with glee, he had had enough.

"Shall we get to the point, Salvatore? You must know why we're meeting here, you're not unwise."  
He learned the tactic from one of the greats, Lucius Malfoy. Belittling your company when you know they're better than you, or at least have more leverage, was a specialty.

Draco had fully banked on there being numerous lackeys, some 'muscle' for intimidation. And yet there wasn't. Not a single other person except Nott.

Unless they were hiding outside. But even if there was, Draco had come to the conclusion in this tedious forty-minute conversation that he really was the only person who could slip through cracks so magnificently. Nobody cared about him or his family anymore since they stayed away from Dark Magic. Since most people knew their rep was tarnished and they'd forever be irrelevant. There would be no comeback.

He had told Salvatore before that he wouldn't risk getting caught with more than legal doses of love elements in Amortentia, so perhaps he'd actually respected him for the nerve to deny the request. It was certainly clear that he was trying to bully him into favour.

Honestly, if Salvatore disagreed with his proposition, he'd probably be dead anyways, so really who cared if the world was going to end?  
He'd be a skeleton, on his highway to hell as he surely knew he would be to even care about the suffering of the wizarding world that had turned him away when it was most needed.  
He may as well try, even if it was for a girl's sake whom he loathed.

Pursing his lips, Salvatore raised a brow.  
"So angry you seem, my dear Draco. Nott is under the impression you want to leave our organization. But I told him you wouldn't dream of it, would you? Not with what I'm paying you?"

It was the first sign of discomfort; it was time for his fangs to come out and bite down.

"Oh but I _would_ dream of it," Draco replied, tilting his head ever so slightly forwards. "And no, the pay is just _marvellous_."

"Then what is the issue, lad?"  
Baring his white teeth, the man smiled - this time it was cold.

"I am now recognizable in these parts. And my number one rule was anonymity. You agreed that was best too, if I recall correctly. Unless Theodore _lied_ to me," Draco stated pointedly, to which Nott flinched. "When Theodore put forth his proposition I was given no information about who I was serving. I was content with that being as I like to operate on my own. And then just a few short weeks before tonight I met _you_ , the head of everything. Right after I received some _hefty_ requests. Now, I don't like being kept in the dark, Salvatore. I would be glad to do all your bidding, and perhaps change the rules I had before if I was given a bit more leeway on your, shall we say, secrets?"

" _Secrets?"  
_ It lilted of the leader's tongue, Draco was unsure if he was feigning misunderstanding or not.  
He leant forwards just the slightest bit more.

"The amber liquid brewing in my attic is _very dangerous,"_ he then whispered. "And in the wrong hands it could affect my life in ways I wouldn't dream of, whether I am the victim or I am the culprit, you see."

"In what ways are you worried about?" Salvatore inquired, his eyes now slits, flicking her gaze his to his main accomplice before returning it to his potion master. Who was _much_ too calm.

"I don't know who you're selling this stuff to. If it's merely the dregs of society or people who end up in Azkaban. And if I had a hundred percent security that it would never affect me negatively, then I could continue my services. If not…I don't really see why I should if you could off me at any waking hour, as you certainly are capable of."

Crossing his arms, Draco held his glass in one hand, swirling it around as he surveyed the two men observing him as if he were a puzzle they couldn't solve. Nott with a sour look, Salvatore with softer intrigue.

"Do you not trust me, Draco? Do you not think that I wouldn't have asked such a difficulty of you if I was planning to hurt you?"

"Frankly, Mr. Sangrey? I don't trust anybody. I have confidence in people, as I do you in you that you will give me galleons for my deliveries. But things can change in the flick of the wrist. You might find someone better, something may happen to me that you find irreconcilable. I don't know. I've become uncomfortable with our arrangement."

Silence overwhelmed them, the only noise the humming of the old house rocking in the windy summer night. He could tell the man was musing about what he could do to resolve this, perhaps if he _could_ or if he should hex him now and get it over and done with.

Suddenly, the bar door swung open. A woman in a long black robe with her head covered strode in, and took a place at the bar.

Her bearing seemed so familiar that he squinted at her presence, which alerted his company to where he stared. The barmaid addressed her, no doubt telling her they were closing soon when her eyes widened.

Sangrey looked to Nott, who shrugged.  
"Do you know her, Draco?"

" _I'm…not sure."_

If it was who he thought it was, there was going to be blood.

Catherine, the barmaid, was tentative, carrying another glass over to the table. The three men watched her as she strode. She cleared her throat, flickering her gaze frantically:  
"From the lady at the bar, sir."

And she placed it in front of Draco. Then scampered off, no doubt more aware of her new patron of what barging in at the wee hours of the morning meant.

The baffled look on his face was genuine. As he snuck a glance once more at the mystery girl, she pulled her hood down.  
Hermione, much more beautiful than he thought she could be, nodded to Draco, no trace of kindness on her.

"Tell me, what business does a woman of that calibre have being in a pub at this time of night?"  
His voice, Salvatore's, was devoid of all the lilting and warmth it held not two minutes prior.  
"And _why,_ is she sending _you_ a drink?"

"Let me go find out."

With veins burning, face threatening to kick into rage, he stood up slowly, sliding over to his partner, allowing her to speak first as he sat next to her for fear of exploding.

"Before you decide to hex me, let me explain what is going to happen here."  
Though her tone was serious, she was propping her elbow onto the bar, leaning her head against a delicate hand, silky hair flowing in a curtain across her chest as she tilted her body towards his.  
He said nothing in response, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"You're going to go back and tell Salvatore and Theodore that we've been having an arrangement."  
She smiled coyly, making a point to glance over at the two men watching their conversation.

" _An arrangement?"_

" _Yes_ , an arrangement. That you've been supplying me with vanishing potions and _Felix Felicis_ for, hmmm, say a year now. And once my payments ran out…I had to get my business through _other_ means."  
Hermione snaked her free hand to Draco's, which rest upon the wooden surface. Before he could flinch, she held onto his fingers tightly.

" _What in the fuck are you on about?"_

Though said it almost silently, his eyes were filled with pure rage.

"We went to Hogwarts together after the war. They don't know what happened there. Tell them that after we graduated, I mentioned wanting to research giant and centaur patterns. Tell them that you beat me in potions, it's true, a fact easy to check."

" _You're mad, Granger."  
_ He slammed her hand back onto the bar. She didn't flinch.

It was obvious by Draco's demeanour that he wasn't into this proposal, but it was too late. Theodore and Salvatore were eavesdropping; She _had_ to make it work,

"I'm not. I have to find a way to be involved, you _can't_ push me out. I knew only _you_ could make such powerful potions, I needed a means to study 'dangerous' races from afar, on the offside. But I had to keep it a secret because you don't have a brewing license. They'll believe you, I know it. Say I kept in contact with you and bought them from you for cheap. Say we got to talking…. then _more._ You've been trying to cut me off now because of my position, and now _your_ position."

She ghosted her hand to his knee. Rubbing it up and down his thigh, Draco gave an involuntary gasp. Then moved his hand to hers, steadying it.  
It took all the composure in the world for Hermione _not_ to react to _his_ reaction. His fingers were blazing.

"Tell them your Felix Felicis enabled me to enact the _Centaur Protection Pact;_ clause 57. They'll look it up. You can _vaguely_ say that it allowed me to capture evidence of centaur pack hailing from the Caledonian Forests. They were _helping_ a wounded Belgian witch who had been attacked by giant Doxy's."

Pupils dilating, he shook his head wildly.

" _Granger,_ I'm not going to lie to this man, and I don't know what the fuck you thought would come out of you swooping in here consulting me."  
Her knuckles were white as his grip tightened, his frown stretched across his pale skin as he kept control.

"Look, Draco, we need a plan. If they see I'm involved with you, maybe they'll want information from the Ministry. I can figure out ways to allow that, tiny tidbits. Tell them we've been having a casual sexual relationship but I'm catching more than just orgasms."

" _WHAT?"_

" _Now you've done it, they're coming over. Tell them I'm in love with you and that you aren't with me. They'll try to get you to use me."_

Jumping in her chest her heart knew this was a great plan, even if her partner didn't.  
Although the extremely handsome tall man walking her way came off intimidating as he was grinning coolly.

"Hello there, my name is Salvatore Sangrey. Would it be so bold of me to ask if you aren't _the_ Hermione Granger, are you?"'

Holding out a hand to her, Draco's attention was solely on the fact that Hermione's was still a mere six inches from his cock. And that she had done that on purpose so his boss would see.

"Not at all. Yes, I am," and she stood up, suddenly appearing red-faced and flustered. Though not the flustered that he was oh so familiar with. The kind of flustered that he himself had made her feel a few years prior. "Pleasure to meet you Mr. Sangrey, but I really must be going now."

She shook his hand, and smiled, turning round to leave without acknowledging Theodore.

"Oh please, stay for a drink. You're already out at such a late hour."

Silky smooth, she merely nodded at his pointed inflection.  
"This is true, but I'm afraid I've already been working much too hard on a lost cause. _Goodbye Draco_." Rolling his name off her tongue with as much care as a mother holds her baby, she was out the door.

" _And what pray tell was that about?"  
_ Curiosity was much more present than annoyance or anger.

"Why was _Hermione Granger_ practically riding you? You were such a grade A fuckhole to her in school. And man, when did she get so…. _not ugly?"_

There was no other way out of this. The saucy minx had trapped him in her game, there was no other explanation that would suffice. Taking his whiskey, staring at the contents, he was feigning indifference to this situation. Like her arrival was a fly buzzing round his head, only irritated him, not made his bones jump from his skin.

"She went back to Hogwarts when I did after the war. We didn't speak much, but I _beat_ her in potions."

" _You_ beat _her?"_

"Now, now, Nott, does that come as a surprise? _Really?"  
_ Theodore threw up his hands, Salvatore pat him on the back as he held a finger to his mouth - to shush- then made his way to sit on the stool that Hermione had just left vacant.

"Please, continue."

He noticed Salvatore stroking his goatee.  
"Yes, and she was justifiably upset about it. Still though, there was a moment, in history class, wherein she divulged that she hoped to study centaurs and giants. To _help_ them you see. That's very dangerous, she'd need some kind of help. There _I_ am, last year. After she had been transferred to a new department. IN a powerful position that would allow her to make some real changes."

"Wait, wait, wait - She asked _you_ for potions?"  
Theodore was asking all the questions he needed to be asked. _Could this actually work?_

"Yes she did, because the Ministry wouldn't fund her missions. They have bigger problems than allowing centaurs more leeway into wizard life. Felix Felicis runs up to thousands of galleons sometimes, and though her Muggle family is relatively affluent, the currency doesn't quite translate."

"And did it help her then? Did the potions do anything?"

Salvatore was hanging on to his every word.  
"Yes. Yes, it did. I don't know the exact details - she keeps them from me in case the ministry ever comes knocking – but she was observing centaurs in the Caledonian forests using invisibility potions. That's in Scotland I believe. I believe she was caught in a skirmish with some creature, she took liquid luck to ensure her escape. But instead saw them helping an injured witch escape from Doxy's. Meaning that she can prove they aren't violent in nature, meaning they are willing to help wizards."

" _And she works in magical law_ _enforcement_ …"

"Yes, she used the evidence to create a clause in the _Centaur Protection pact._ The witch made a testimony. _"_

"But that's amazing! I can't believe it!"  
Salvatore was incredulous. He was almost glowing.

"That still doesn't explain why she was trying to fuck you, though."  
Nott drained his drink.

" _Language, Theodore._ Though I too wondered at her body language. _"_

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," was the reply.  
Perfect bait.

"What, did you slip a bit of the old love juice in her pumpkin brew?" and Theodore chuckled as he threw his tankard down.

"No, of course not. I – we sort of had sex. A few times." He faked mortification. "Not my usual target, i'll admit. But blood status sort of goes out the window when an attractive woman is eager."

Chuckling, Theodore agreed.

"It was once when she was ecstatic about the legislature…then a few more times after. I may have…'taken advantage' if you will. There were a few times she came to me wanting more potion and not a lot of money. A bargain, I suppose she enjoyed the first go. Maybe I obliged a bit too much for sexual favours, I'm not perfect. She seemed eager to do it all."

"My, my Draco. Is that why she knew you were here?"

"I did let slip that I came here sometimes. But she doesn't know where I live, I would always go to her home, kept mine a secret. Gets very lonely sometimes…."

He hoped his acting was on par, he could tell the pair was invested in his every lingering syllable.

"In any case, I felt it was due time to cut her off, because I couldn't have anyone so tied to the ministry close to me when I'm involved with _you_. I'll admit I got a bit paranoid. She figured out where I am often, I suppose it's not particularly difficult. I saw her at Arran Charlesby's party and knew it was the prime moment to give her my news, she was upset. I was afraid of what she'd do. Hence why I wanted to get out of this arrangement lest I have two parties wanting to get at me."  
He pointed to the door, then to Sangrey.  
"Don't want to get murdered from having a bit of a good time."

"You lead a very hectic life, Draco Malfoy. I never would've thought."  
Raising an eyebrow, Nott was the one who seemed skeptical.

"What's so special about you, though, eh?"

"No idea. Perhaps it's the mystery of my absence that creates an intrigue. Maybe she has low expectations, which i'd assume already from dating Ronald Weasley, or i'm just good in bed."

"Yeah, maybe, but you're a pariah. Noone likes you. Everyone says the Malfoy family is – "

" _Quiet."_

Draco tilted his head, this statement the only thing tonight to sting. Theodore trailed off, apologized lightly, tough it was genuinine.  
The comment made him all the more determined to succeed. That his dreadful leader was actually standing up for him was a hopeful promise.

"I don't know, Theodore. I've never been in love before."

" _Do you mean to say?"  
_ The nail in the coffin.

" _Yes._ She's _in love_ with me. Told me so then, told me again tonight. Wanted to get me a job at the Ministry, like I'd ever take their charity after how they treated me in the press. No, I'm outraged at the request. Suffice to say that I don't think I shall ever speak with her again."

Leaving his counterparts in silence, he sipped his cup slowly, praying for results he desired.  
And he got them.

" _No, no, you must._ Draco – you want more information…. you have it."' Salvatore laughed, genuinely, unequivocally jovial. "I'll tell you anything you want."


End file.
